


Under the Skin

by LadyWallace



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1970s, Crowley and aziraphale friendship, Crowley has snake problems, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Shedding, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale, or they're getting there, tag to the holy water arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: Sometimes Crowley hates his snake form, especially when it's time to shed. Aziraphale, worried he hasn't seen his friend for several days, decides to go and check on him only to find a very disgruntled and uncomfortable demon. (Friendship, h/c, fluff)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	Under the Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePlaidFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlaidFox/gifts).



> Fic for ThPlaidFox I hope you enjoy this ^_^
> 
> This is set right after Aziraphale gave Crowley the holy water in the show.

It started with an itch that became more and more persistent as the night went on. Crowley tried to ignore it at first, but eventually found that he couldn't. It had come time to admit to the inevitability of his situation.

Crowley groaned as he wriggled in his seat while driving back to his flat. Why did it have to be _now_ of all times? Always at the most inopportune moments.

Of course, when something only happened every couple of centuries, it was easy to forget about it, until, of course, it reared its ugly head again.

And here Crowley was thinking he had been doing so well lately. He'd finally convinced Aziraphale to give him the holy water after all. Even now, there it sat cradled carefully in the passenger seat, contained in the—of course—tartan patterned thermos that the angel had handed to him. He finally felt secure, like he had a safeguard in case everything went to Hell—or, rather, 'all Hell broke loose', he supposed was a better analogy—and then _this_ had to happen!

Crowley sighed as he drove a little faster. There really was nothing for it. All he could do was wait it out. Unfortunately, in the meantime, he was going to be miserable.

Crowley made it to his flat as his back felt like thousands of prickly bugs were crawling over it—a very uncomfortable sensation. He growled and wrenched his arm around to scratch at it but his fingers did little good through his layers of clothes. He grabbed the thermos, biting his lip as he tried to be as gentle as possible with it in his current predicament. Even though he had begged Aziraphale to give him the holy water, it wasn't like he didn't know how dangerous it was, and despite the fact that it was a precautionary measure, he would still feel better once it was in his safe, for emergencies only.

He burst inside, practically going mad at this point from the itching that was quickly spreading from his back to other parts of his body. He didn't remember it hitting _quite_ this hard last time, but then, he had been thinking a lot on other things lately, so perhaps he had just ignored the early warning signs.

Crowley hurried to his office and quickly deposited the thermos into his safe before he divested himself of his coat and sunglasses, leaving them tossed haphazardly into a chair before heading to his bedroom. He went to the heater and cranked it on high, already shivering slightly, and knowing he would just get colder later, especially if he was in his snake form. He peeled his shirt off too and finally dug his fingers into his bare back, sighing slightly as he was able to finally find some relief.

But he was putting off the inevitable, he knew it, and with a sigh, Crowley crawled into his bed and shifted into his snake form.

Typically, Crowley held no ill will toward his demonic form, but when it came to _this_ he was less than happy about it.

He didn't even understand why, as a demon, he had to shed at all. Shouldn't he be able to escape these sorts of natural problems as a _super_ natural being?

Crowley hissed unhappily as he wriggled in his serpentine form, trying to help the old skin along as much as possible. It was only just starting to flake, making his black and red scales an ugly dull, muddy color. He hissed again as he saw this. It was going to take a while then.

It was bad enough that his feathers molted every few decades, which was less than pleasant but, he thought that shedding his snake skin was even worse. It was just so much of an effort to get it off, and it was so itchy and uncomfortable all the time, and always left him exhausted afterward. He would be surprised if he didn't sleep for a week once it was done.

With a hissing sigh, he slithered off the bed, the itching growing unbearable, as he tried to contort himself to scratch his back against the bedposts. It felt pretty good, but it was still a tiering venture and he soon had to take a rest, simply curling under the bed, feeling the welcome warmth from the heater nearby and writhing every once in a while due to his infuriating, flaking skin.

Crowley rested his head against his long body, blinking forlornly. This was going to be a long few days.

_~~~~~~~_

_Aziraphale was worried._

Crowley would probably say that was a common aspect of his character, but in reality, Aziraphale didn't Worry so much as he was simply _concerned_ about things. At least most of the time, that was indeed the case.

At the moment he was very much Worried. (With a capital W.)

He was Worried about Crowley.

And with good reason, he reasoned to himself as he paced around his bookshop, glancing at the phone. He hadn't heard from Crowley for a few days, not seen him around, though the demon was staying in London now and they did see each other quite a bit, at least in passing. Plus there was the whole thing with the holy water which turned out to be what was really bothering Aziraphale.

Yes, fair enough, Crowley had been asking him for it for, well, about a hundred years now, and he had refused, and rightly so. After all, holy water was one of, if not the most dangerous substance a demon could come into contact with! Aziraphale couldn't get it into his head as to why Crowley would even want the stuff. He'd said for a contingency plan, a safeguard, but that thought put a pit into Aziraphale's stomach. What was Crowley safeguarding against? Not Heaven, so obviously Hell, and why would Crowley think that Hell was coming for him? Because of their Arrangement? Did he know something Aziraphale didn't?

And that was the better explanation Aziraphale could come up with, because the other reason hardly bore thinking about. Surely Crowley couldn't mean to use the holy water on… _himself_?

Aziraphale shuddered just at the thought. But at the same time, Crowley had been acting a bit strange lately. He'd been willing to hire thieves to steal holy water for him, after all. He was desperate for some reason, and Aziraphale felt completely justified in worrying about the demon because of it. That was the only reason he had broken down and given Crowley the holy water himself. Because he didn't want the demon to get into even more trouble than he might already be in.

Now, though, he was regretting giving Crowley the holy water. Especially since he hadn't heard from him for nearly a week now. He was growing more and more terrified that something might have happened. That Crowley might have done something…rash. He had never truly thought the demon capable of doing something so self-destructive, and yet…well, everyone had their limits. Even Crowley.

Aziraphale glanced at the phone again and finally strode over to it and dialed Crowley's number for the umpteenth time.

And got nothing, just like all the other times he had tried to call before.

"Right," Aziraphale said to himself, settling the phone firmly back into its cradle. He couldn't stand this horrible speculation a moment longer. He had to know. No matter the outcome, he had to know what was going on with Crowley.

He didn't know if he should be so bold as to call Crowley his friend, though he thought that they had both started to see each other that way, but that mattered little at this point. Friend or not, he was Aziraphale's confidante, and 'mate' he supposed Crowley would say, and if he needed help, then Aziraphale would do his best to help him.

If it turned out that whatever horrible thing had already occurred, well, Aziraphale at least would rather know than be left ignorant for the rest of his existence.

So he grabbed his coat, and called a cab before he made his way to Crowley's flat. His heart was in his throat as he feared what he might find when he got there.

_~~~~~~~_

_Crowley was in a turmoil_ of discomfort. He honestly didn't even know how many days it had been since the shedding had started, but it _still_ hadn't stopped. Thankfully, he'd been able to scrape off the skin around his head—that was always the easiest part—but as it continued to peel back along his long serpentine form, it just got harder and harder to wriggle out of it. It seemed that no matter how much he writhed around, how much he tried to scrape the skin off against the floor, or various pieces of furniture, it didn't help.

Crowley was going mad.

He wished he could change back into his human form for a brief respite, to at least have _arms_ to scratch, but knew it would do nothing. And besides, now that he was half shed, he couldn't even change back into his human form until it was done.

In the meantime, he was stuck in this helpless state, getting more and more desperate by the minute.

He was suddenly aware of a pounding on his door and startled, sticking his tongue out to smell the air. No sulfur, but still… who would be at his flat? Who that meant well anyway…

He thought briefly about the holy water sitting in the safe. Not that he could open it without hands, which made it completely useless at the moment. That seemed to be on par with his existence, he thought glumly.

He could hear something being said, but not the tone of the voice. However, next he heard the door to his flat open and footsteps come inside.

Crowley curled into a corner of his room, wriggling from the itching sensation, and completely helpless in his current situation.

He had no idea what he was going to do.

_~~~~~~~_

_Aziraphale knocked on_ the door to Crowley's flat several times, but when there was still no answer from the demon, he decided to throw propriety to the winds.

"Crowley, I'm coming in!" he called as he miracled the door open and stepped inside.

Well, first of all, he could tell there was no sign of a fight, which was, at least a good thing. And obviously, he was the only one to have forced the door open, he realized a little guiltily.

That was, if Crowley was even here. He could have been attacked somewhere else…Oh, Aziraphale really needed to stop thinking about things like that. And there were other reasons the door could be locked from the inside…

Aziraphale bit his lip, pushing his worst fears aside as he cautiously continued further into the flat. "Crowley, it's just me. If you're here, please let me know. I'm just a little worried, is all. I haven't heard from you."

He made it to a door that was cracked slightly, probably the bedroom. He could hear light rustling noises from the other side and pushed it open.

He was not expecting the sight he found.

Crowley was in his serpentine form, curled up in one corner of the room, looking defensive and miserable at the same time. Aziraphale only had time to register relief that he was at least okay, when Crowley let out a frustrated hiss and uncoiled, flopping around on his back as he attempted to rub his side against the wall. Dry skin crinkled around him, flaking off his long body.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried, confused, some of his worry returning.

"Hello, angel," Crowley muttered, blinking up at him.

"What on earth are you doing?" Aziraphale exclaimed. "Are…are you all right?"

Crowley flipped around again with an exasperated sigh. "Sssshedding, angel," he hissed miserably. "Sssskinsss coming off. Nassssty busssinesss this."

Shedding…oh! Aziraphale finally understood. Snakes shed, of course, he knew that. He just hadn't realized demons with snake forms did. But then, he molted his feathers, so he supposed it made sense.

"Oh…is that all?" he asked, sighing briefly in relief.

Crowley's slitted yellow eyes locked onto him, jaw opening to show his fangs. "Isss that all?" he mocked. "Thisss isss bloody inconvenient isss what it isss, angel! Not that you'd undersssstand."

Aziraphale ruffled slightly, feeling indignant now that his worry had worn off. "Forgive me, but I was worried about you, Crowley! I hadn't heard from you in days and what with the holy water escapade…"

Crowley hissed furiously and flipped around, trying to rub the flaking skin against the sharp corner of the windowsill, furiously. Aziraphale watched with wide eyes as he struggled for several seconds until he finally took a step forward, feeling pity toward the obviously struggling demon.

"Is there…anything I can do to help?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of himself.

Crowley stopped his wriggling and looked at him. "Well…you have handsss at the moment."

Aziraphale took that as an invitation and approached the demon, kneeling down as he inspected Crowley's predicament. The skin had stopped shedding about halfway down Crowley's body, which was obviously a place where it was hard for him to reach as well. He reached out to touch it carefully, peeling the crunchy dry skin back several inches.

"Will it hurt if I pull on it?" he asked cautiously.

Crowley shook his head. "No. It'sss all detached. Jussst ssstuck."

Aziraphale nodded and turned back to the problem, trying his best to help peel the skin back but it _was_ being incredibly stubborn. It was surprisingly thick and this just made it harder to push back than it should have been. Crowley hissed and wriggled desperately, which didn't help.

"What about steam? Do you think that might help loosen it?" Aziraphale asked. "You could get into the shower or we could make a sort of sauna."

Crowley seemed to consider it and then nodded. "Anything you might think will make thisss easssier," he huffed tiredly.

Aziraphale nodded and hurried into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the shower, making it as hot as it would go to create a sauna effect in the room. The room steamed up quickly once he closed the door behind Crowley to seal it in, and he grabbed a cloth to wet with warm water and rub along the stubborn skin across Crowley's back and tail.

Thankfully, this seemed to at least help with the itching, because Crowley seemed able to relax a little bit on the warm tiles while Aziraphale worked steadily. When he was feeling the dampness seep through his own clothes, having to perform a miracle to keep dry, he turned back to the stubborn skin.

"Let's try this again," he said to Crowley.

It still wasn't easy, but the dry skin did seem more inclined to peel off with help from the steamy surroundings, leaving behind sleek, fresh black and red scales.

Finally, _finally_ , Aziraphale was able to peel the rest of the skin off as Crowley wriggled out of it with one last final effort and collapsed, breathing heavily and hissing on the floor.

Aziraphale rubbed his long scaly body with the warm cloth to alleviate any residual itching and Crowley hissed with content before he shifted back into his human form, curled with exhaustion on the tiles.

Aziraphale tucked a towel around his shoulders, the steam dampening and reddening his skin as Aziraphale got up to turn the shower off.

"Thanksss, angel," Crowley said, still hissing slightly. "But I'm still confused as to why you're here to begin with. Never come by before. Don't see why you were so worried now."

Aziraphale spun back around, planting his fists on his hips. "Why? Because I hand you something that could destroy you and then you disappear for a week. What _isn't_ there to worry about in that situation?"

Crowley stared at him in seeming confusion, golden eyes wide, before he blinked and frowned, pulling the towel further around his shoulders. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're my _friend_ , Crowley!" Aziraphale said before he realized what he was saying. He stopped, and blushed slightly as the demon's eyes widened. And here he had been wondering exactly how to label their relationship. He supposed he had just figured it out.

Crowley was silent for a long time, and Aziraphale began to fear he had said something wrong but the demon slumped against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. "I guess…I guess you're my friend too," he said. "Didn't really realize it before but…"

Aziraphale felt his heart loosen a little, but the feeling was short-lived because Crowley went on.

"But I still don't get it. Why were you so worried?"

Aziraphale sighed and sat down on the side of the tub. "You've been acting strange recently, Crowley, paranoid almost." Crowley gave him a look and Aziraphale shot him one back. "You've been asking me for holy water for decades, but you never told me _why_ aside from the fact that it's a 'contingency'. What does that mean? And then you were about to make a heist to get some before I gave it to you so you must be desperate. Honestly, Crowley when I didn't hear from you, I thought…" he trailed off, biting his lip before he forced out the rest of the thought in a jumble. "I thought you might have used it on yourself."

Crowley looked shocked. "You—you think I'm _suicidal_?" he squeaked.

"I didn't know _what_ to think!" Aziraphale said helplessly. "What does a demon need with holy water?"

"Protection!" Crowley returned.

"From whom?" Aziraphale demanded. "Crowley, are things really that bad with Hell? Is there something I need to know?"

"No, angel," Crowley said tiredly, slumping back against the wall again. "Nothing you don't already know. It's just…this Arrangement and us, and everything in between. It works, yeah, and I wouldn't go back on it, but…you know this is dangerous, right? Our home offices aren't exactly stupid all the time. They might figure something out and when they do, you know what's coming, right? Eternal torment for me, certainly, and you…well…"

Aziraphale's throat tightened as he watched Crowley shrug helplessly. He knew what it would mean. Falling. That would be the only reasonable punishment by Heavenly standards for an angel who worked with a demon. And it's not like he _hadn't_ thought of it before, it's just that he tried his best not to.

"I guess I just wanted something that would give me a fighting chance," Crowley said quietly. "If they decided to come for me."

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, lowering his head into his hands briefly before he turned back to the demon, meeting his golden snake eyes which he so rarely saw without his glasses over them. "Look, dear, if it ever comes to that, all you have to do is call. I'll be there to back you up. With all the holy water in the world, if that's what you need."

Crowley's mouth flattened into a thin line but he nodded, reaching up to run a hand through his messy hair as he met Aziraphale's eyes. "Same goes for you, Aziraphale. I guess we're in this together, eh?"

Aziraphale nodded firmly, and watched as Crowley slumped even further against the wall, eyes sliding halfway closed. He realized then just how tired the demon looked.

"Oh, dear boy, you should be resting. I'm sure that was a very exhausting trial for you!"

Crowley hummed low, seeming to have lost what little energy he'd had before. "Really tired," he managed to say.

Aziraphale helped him to his feet, and Crowley shakily made it back into the bedroom, crawling into bed before he sprawled onto the pillows and blankets, closing his eyes with a weary sigh.

Aziraphale gathered as many blankets as he could find and bundled them over Crowley, knowing how easily he got cold. Crowley burrowed into the pile, murmuring in tired contentment.

"Anything else I can get you?" Aziraphale asked.

"M'good," Crowley mumbled, but cracked one eye open. "Aziraphale? Think you could…stay until I wake up again?"

Aziraphale realized that Crowley was probably feeling a bit worried about not being able to protect himself in his current exhausted state, and saw exactly what the demon wasn't saying. He smiled and reached out to squeeze Crowley's shoulder through the blankets. "Of course, dear. I'll be right here."

Crowley seemed to relax at this, whatever tension was left in his body dispersing entirely, as his eyes slid shut and he started, almost immediately, to snore.

Aziraphale smiled fondly and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed, sitting down as he watched over his friend, keeping his promise.


End file.
